Eleusis, made war against Erectheus, king of Athens. They
were both killed in battle, and it was thereupon agreed that the
posterity of Erectheus should be kings of Athens, and the descendants
of Eumolpus should, in future, retain the office of Hierophant.

BOOK THE SIXTH.

FABLE I. [VI.1-145]

Arachne, vain-glorious of her ingenuity, challenges Minerva to a
contest of skill in her art. The Goddess accepts the challenge, and,
being enraged to see herself outdone, strikes her rival with her
shuttle; upon which, Arachne, in her distress, hangs herself. Minerva,
touched with compassion, transforms her into a spider.

Tritonia had {meanwhile} lent an ear to such recitals as these, and she
approved of the songs of the Aonian maids, and their just resentment.
Then {thus she says} to herself: "To commend is but a trifling matter;
let us, too, deserve commendation, and let us not permit our divine
majesty to be slighted without {due} punishment." And {then} she turns
her mind to the fate of the Maeonian Arachne; who, as she had heard, did
not yield to her in the praises of the art of working in wool. She was
renowned not for the place {of her birth}, nor for the origin of her
family, but for her skill {alone}. Idmon, of Colophon,[1] her father,
used to dye the soaking wool in Phocaean[2] purple.[3] Her mother was
dead; but she, too, was of the lower rank, and of the same condition
with her husband. Yet {Arachne}, by her skill, had acquired a memorable
name throughout the cities of Lydia; although, born of a humble family,
she used to live in the little {town} of Hypaepae.[4] Often did the Nymphs
desert the vineyards of their own Tymolus, that they might look at her
admirable workmanship; {often} did the Nymphs of the {river} Pactolus[5]
forsake their streams. And not only did it give them pleasure to look at
the garments when made, but even, too, while they were being made, so
much grace was there in her working. Whether it was that she was rolling
the rough wool into its first balls, or whether she was unravelling the
work with her fingers, and was softening the fleeces worked over again
with long drawings out, equalling the mists {in their fineness}; or
whether she was moving the {smooth} round spindle with her nimble thumb,
or was embroidering with the needle, you might perceive that she had
been instructed by Pallas.

This, however, she used to deny; and, being displeased with a mistress
so fame